The Other Side of Midnight

Frank came into the room carrying a silver ice bucket. He set it on top of the bar in the corner. "What time would you like dinner, Mr. Fraser?"

"Seven-thirty."

"I'll tell the cook." Frank left the room.

"What may I fix you to drink?"

"Nothing, thank you."

He looked over at her. "Don't you drink, Catherine?"

"Not when I'm working," she said. "I get my p's and o's mixed up."

"You mean p's and q's, don't you?"

"P's and o's. They're next to each other on the typewriter."

"I didn't know."

"You're not supposed to. That's why you pay me a king's ransom every week."

"What do I pay you?" Fraser asked.

"Thirty dollars and dinner in the most beautiful house in Washington."

"You're sure you won't change your mind about that drink?"

"No, thank you," Catherine said.

Fraser mixed a martini for himself, and Catherine wandered around the room looking at the books. There were all the traditional classic titles and, in addition, a whole section of books in Italian and another section in Arabic.

Fraser walked over to her side. "You don't really speak Italian and Arabic, do you?" Catherine asked.

"Yes. I lived in the Middle East for a few years and learned Arabic."

"And the Italian?"

"I went with an Italian actress for a while."

Her face flushed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

Fraser looked at her, his eyes filled with amusement, and Catherine felt like a schoolgirl. She was not sure whether she hated William Fraser or loved him. Of one thing she was sure. He was the nicest man she had ever known.

Dinner was superb. All the dishes were French with divine sauces. The dessert was Cherries Jubilee. No wonder Fraser worked out at the club three mornings a week.

"How is it?" Fraser asked her.

"It's not like the food in the commissary," she said and smiled.

Fraser laughed. "I must eat in the commissary one day."

"I wouldn't if I were you."

He looked at her. "Food that bad?"

"It's not the food. It's the girls. They'd mob you."

"What makes you think so?"